Working for the Band Read online

  Right? I guess. That’s what I told myself, anyway.

  Though, when none of them complained, I did feel a little better about it. Not that I would ever admit it out loud, but...

  In the end, my bunk was at the top with Graeme (who admitted he slept like the dead) under me in the middle, and an empty bunk for storage at the bottom. Andy was across from me, of course, with Max under him and Darren (who said he was a restless sleeper and feared rolling out) at the bottom. Will took the top bunk beside Andy, closest to the back of the bus.

  I was happy to see Nessa’s backpack on the bunk next to mine. She was already working like a dog, and it would only get worse, so she deserved one of the top bunks if it was even marginally better than the others.

  Once we’d all chosen, Andy disappeared to go grab a shower in the tiny washroom while the rest of us returned to the front of the bus.

  We took our time getting familiarized with what would be our home for the next little while—likely only a couple of weeks for Nessa and me until Linda returned, but the guys would be on it for most of the summer.

  The kitchen was fully stocked with coffee, Pop Tarts, breakfast shakes, and tons of drinks and snacks. The lounge was outfitted with the huge TV, a gaming console, and DVD player, which would be perfect for the road if the bus’s Wi-Fi didn’t work; it really was a home away from home.

  Predictably, even though we’d just left the restaurant and it was late, the guys grabbed some chips and made themselves comfortable on the leather couches as they did something of a recap of the entire concert. They very critically went over what they did well and where they needed to tighten things up. I was impressed with how seriously they were taking their performance and made a mental note to tell Tony that they weren’t just talking about how much the girls were screaming and swooning over them (though believe me, there had been plenty of that going on while they were on stage).

  “I taped the whole thing,” I said. “I’ll cut it tomorrow when I’m not so bleary-eyed, but you can review the raw footage. Then you won’t have to rely on your memory.”

  “Good call,” Darren said with a nod. “Thanks.”

  I shrugged and moved over to the cabinet filled with games and DVDs. I wasn’t much of a gamer, but there was a good variety of movies, and I was heartened to see there were several horror films—my all-time favorite genre.

  “Oh yay!” I said aloud as I pulled some of the cases. “Saw Two and The Ring...oh...The Conjuring...these are good ones.”

  I looked up and noticed Will standing next to the fridge, a carton of orange juice in his hand, looking at me. “Want to watch?” I asked. I’d always had something of a crush on him, ever since I’d seen his performance at the school talent show—the one that had gotten Nessa’s attention, too.

  He frowned and glanced over at the microwave. “Right now?”

  Of course, I was exhausted, but I was also wired and nowhere near ready for bed. Though as I followed his eyes to the digital clock and saw that it was well after one a.m., I realized it probably was too late to get into a movie. Now I probably looked desperate. Damn.

  “No, I guess not,” I mumbled as Will took a seat at the booth with his glass of OJ. I turned away so no one would see the embarrassed blush rising on my cheeks.

  Though a random thought popped into my head: If it was too late to be getting into a movie, it was definitely too late to be working. I glanced toward the front door of the bus. “I can’t believe they aren’t done packing up yet.” I felt bad for Nessa, and not for the first time since we’d woken up at her beach house that morning.

  God, had it only been that morning? So much had happened since, making it feel like the longest day ever. I suddenly felt very tired and shoved the movies away before I dropped onto the couch.

  Poor Vanessa; she’d woken up, thinking she was going to go to the band’s first gig and then she’d get to return to the house in the Hamptons to officially start her lazy summer vacation at the beach. Until Linda had gotten hurt. Now, instead of being tucked in her bed, Nessa was inside a stuffy Brooklyn warehouse, getting ready to go on tour.

  And just to be clear, going on tour was my dream come true. It was her nightmare. Even with her boyfriend being on board. Maybe especially with her brand new boyfriend being on tour since it meant they couldn’t hook up. Though I wondered how long that rule was going to remain unbroken.

  “I should go see if they need any help,” I said, though only half-meaning it. I didn’t even move.

  Speaking of Nessa’s brand new boyfriend: “I’ll go check on them,” Andy said as he emerged from the back of the bus, hair wet from his shower. He looked cute in his sweatpants and t-shirt, and I had a feeling Nessa was going to appreciate seeing him, no matter how tired she might be.

  “Good idea,” I said, glad he stepped up, so I didn’t have to.

  “They’re almost done,” Gary announced as he came up the stairs just then, a giant to-go cup in his hand. “Nessa’s on her way out, and then we should be able to pull out in about a half an hour or so.”

  “I need a minute to talk to her,” Andy said to no one in particular and went down the stairs to meet her.

  If anyone thought it was weird, no one said anything, though I did notice Will staring toward the door, a slight frown on his face. He had to know they were dating; they’d been stealing moments together all weekend. They’d been keeping things quiet, but not very successfully. Even Tony knew about it.

  “Hey,” I said as I sat down across from Will, causing him to break his stare to look at me. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” he said with a weak smile. “Just really tired. And amped at the same time, if that makes sense.”

  I nodded. “I totally get it. I’m feeling the same, which is why I suggested the movie to help me relax.” I added, “But getting ready for bed is probably a better idea.”

  “You were going to watch The Conjuring to try to relax?” Max said, drawing my attention to where he stood, leaning against the kitchen sink.

  I was about to bark at him that I was having a private conversation but then realized there probably was no such thing as a private conversation on the bus. It wasn’t exactly Max’s fault that we were all practically on top of each other. And it’s not like Will and I really were having a private conversation.

  While Max wasn’t my favorite person, I did cut him some slack; it’s not like he was standing with his ear pressed to a door trying to eavesdrop.

  “Yes. That’s how I relax. I enjoy horror movies.”

  “Uh, they’re not known for being relaxing, you know.” Will laughed. “You know that’s weird, right?”

  I shrugged. “What can I tell you? I’ve always been a bit weird.”

  Max muttered something that sounded like it might have contained the word, “psycho.”

  While I hadn’t heard enough to know for sure, it instantly got my back up. “Did you say something?” I demanded, glaring over at him.

  He glared right back. “Nope,” he said arrogantly as he opened a can of soda, the shhhkkkk like an exclamation point on the single word.

  Jerk, I said inside my head as I slid out of the booth. I wanted to get up in his face, but this was only the first night of tour—I really needed to get along with these guys. All of them. And if that meant ignoring his snide remarks, so be it. I was not going to jeopardize this gig by rising to his bait, because if he and I got into it, there was no doubt that I’d be the one to go. He was an integral part of the band, I was just a wannabe videographer.

  Without another word, I grabbed my backpack off my bunk and continued to the bathroom. Maybe getting ready for bed wasn’t a bad idea after all.

  Choices, Choices

  The next day started off with what would become our standard morning—as much as there could be anything standard about a rock tour. Though, as I soon learned, not everything about tour was fun and exciting. There were parts that were mundane and decidedly not fun: waiting for the bathroom, getting made
up and dressed in my bunk (no easy feat, trust me, though doing it in the bathroom wasn’t much better), breakfast, team meeting, workouts.

  But for me, there was also definitely stuff I enjoyed: cutting tape, capturing stills, and writing social media copy. Later came helping the boys with signing their promotional posters as they got ready for the evening’s gig at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

  All in a good day’s work, I told myself as I pulled posters out of the carton and handed them, one by one, to Darren at the beginning of the signing assembly line. Not that I was getting paid, but it was still work, and I took my role really seriously. I felt good about the contribution I was making toward Wiretap’s success—there was a lot more pride in doing stuff like that than helping crooks hide their illegal incomes. Even if my father would never see value in it.

  Not that I was going to point out what I was doing to my dad, but even if no one else ever knew it, I would know that I was doing the right thing.

  At least as far as working went. There were a few naughty things that I wouldn’t mind doing, I thought as I looked around at the boys sitting at the table in front of me, the super-hot rock stars that looked good on the posters but a million times better in real life. Naughty things like kissing. Or maybe even some groping.

  Was I seriously thinking about groping actual rock stars? Well, yeah, because they were all swoon-worthy.

  So swoon worthy, I wasn’t entirely sure which one I’d pick. How would I ever choose?

  Well, I could narrow it down some: Max was off the table, obviously, and Andy was already with Nessa, so that left Graeme, Dave, and Darren.

  They all had something (er, lots of somethings) going for them. They were all good-looking in their own ways, (they were in a boy band, so yeah, hot was a given). Not to mention they were all musical. Nice, funny, and not completely overcome by their fame. Not yet, anyway.

  As I tried to decide which one I’d most want to get with, making pro and con lists in my head while they chatted away around me, I got to the bottom of the box of posters. I asked Tony if he wanted them all signed and when he said he did, Nessa came and opened the second carton for me, using her keys.

  I was about to allow myself to return to the zone of my rock star choice conundrum except as I pulled the protective paper away from the posters, I realized these ones different.

  The first box had been filled with posters of the guys on a bridge with the New York skyline behind them. This one was of the nighttime shot in Time’s Square from that shoot that Nessa and I had been at. Though the image wasn’t all the guys. It was a couple: Will and Nessa.

  My first thought was remembering how much Nessa hadn’t wanted to pose for it, but she had nothing to worry about because—

  Wait.

  I leaned in closer because something wasn’t right.

  Were she and Will kissing? Like, actually kissing? They were supposed to be almost kissing, but nope, their lips were definitely locked together.

  I couldn’t help the gasp that came out of my mouth.

  Where had I been when she’d kissed him? As in, how did I not know this had happened? I couldn’t imagine that the photographer could have Photoshopped an almost kiss into a real kiss. Could he?

  I looked up at Nessa, who obviously had no clue what I’d gasped about. Had she done this on purpose? What did it mean? It was a staged shot, but it looked good. Really good. Like...too good. Which led to my next and bigger question: was there something going on between her and Will? She had never mentioned having any feelings for Will and was with Andy. Not to mention she knew I was crushing on him. Well, sort of, but still—how could she be such a hypocrite when she’d gone on and on, pretending to hate musicians and now she wasn’t just dating one, but maybe even two-timing him with another—from the same band?

  She came over and looked into the box. Then she gasped, too, and I realized maybe her shock was because the kiss wasn’t supposed to be photographed at all. Maybe it had been an opportunity that she’d taken, forgetting it might be captured forever.

  Which was even worse, if she’d meant to kiss him like that.

  I looked up at Will, who had gotten up out of his chair and was now peering into the box, his eyes widening as he realized what he was looking at.

  “What?” Tony said, coming over. “Is there something wrong with the posters?”

  That was a loaded question if I’d ever heard one.

  I glanced over at Andy, who was clearly pissed, and then back at Will because there was something seriously going on with him, something in his eyes that seemed...wrong. But what? Anguish? Hurt? He was staring at Nessa. Like he was waiting for her reaction.

  What is happening?

  Had it been a staged kiss or a stolen kiss? And what had happened since?

  And the biggest question of all—why hadn’t Nessa told me about it? She was supposed to be my best friend. How had she let me be blindsided like this? And with all of them watching it go down.

  It was too much. My brain shut down and all I could think was that I’d made a mistake by coming on tour. I mean, if I wanted secrets, dishonesty, and drama, I may as well be in Geneva with my father, making buckets of money. At least I expected him to disappoint me.

  As all this went through my head in the time it took to blink just a few times, one thing became crystal clear: I needed to get out of there. Pronto.

  My first instinct was to hit the ladies’ room, but the Hall of Fame suddenly felt claustrophobic, close, airless. I bolted from the room, the building, and then out the front doors.

  Except when I got outside, it was hot out. Like, oven hot. Ugh. So much for catching my breath.

  I strode over to the bus and got almost all the way there before I stopped in my tracks as I realized I didn’t have a key. Banging on the door to get Gary to roll out of his bunk to open the door was pretty douchey; it wasn’t his fault I was having a temper tantrum.

  I stamped the ground several times in frustration (I did say I was having a temper tantrum, didn’t I?) and then did some jumping jacks and high-step marching on the spot to let off steam. Not that it helped, although it did make me hot and sweaty, which just made my mood worse. Then I figured what the hell and started toward the bus anyway.

  I took out my phone and stuffed my earbuds in, scrolling through music until I found the mellow mix that helped me fall asleep. But just as the first song was about to begin, I got a text.

  It was from Nessa, of course, asking me where I was. But on the heels of that message, came one from Will.

  Is Nessa okay?

  Is Nessa okay? He was asking about her? What?

  I have no idea, I sent to Will, ignoring Nessa’s message. I just left, remember?

  She did, too, he sent back. I looked up toward the door, expecting to see her coming toward me, but she hadn’t left the building. Not yet, anyway.

  What’s the deal with you and her?? Something Andy needs to know about?

  No, of course not. I just wanted to make sure she’s okay. She’s obviously upset.

  But I had run out of there, obviously upset. He had yet to ask about me.

  Like a lightning bolt, it hit me: Will was into Nessa. That kiss really did mean something. At the very least, it did to him.

  Whoa. I just stared at my phone, trying to process it, trying to tamp down my anger over my best friend hiding all this from me. Then, like staring at it had made it happen, it rang.

  It was her. There was no avoiding her forever, especially since I couldn’t even get on the locked bus, so I told her where I was and braced myself for a best friend fight. With a sigh, I lowered myself to the pavement in the shadow of the bus, leaning against the front tire as I waited.

  Two seconds later, I had a text from my father: putting money in your account. Don’t spend. Just there for a few days while I am doing a deal for client.

  You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought. Did he actually expect me to believe that his clients didn’t have lawyers and bankers to h
old onto money while they did deals?

  What kind of deal? I sent. Legal?

  Of course legal! He sent back immediately, making me think his text skills were really improving. Our buyer is in due diligence. Just for a few days.

  Not cool. But what could I say? He’d opened the bank account in my name and put money in it for me while I was school. It’s not like I had any real ties to it other than using some of it here and there. I hadn’t actually touched it since we’d left the Hamptons; there was nothing I’d needed and no time to shop anyway.

  Fine, I typed back. Busy, have to go.

  I saw he was typing but closed the window and put my phone away. I had more immediate problems.

  By the time Nessa came walking across the parking lot and up to the bus, my anger at her had dissolved into a low simmer. It wasn’t really even about the fact that I was into Will, either. I was mostly hurt over her keeping things from me. She hadn’t been exactly forthcoming about her fling with Andy, only telling me like a year after the fact when he had joined Wiretap, and there was no way around it. And now this.

  No one likes being blindsided. Especially by a best friend.

  But as she reached me and I looked up into her face, I saw the anguish on hers. She hated being in the spotlight, and it was suddenly obvious that being on that poster was not her choice. But was that kiss?

  “So,” I said. “Want to tell me what the deal is with that poster?”

  She sighed and explained how she and Will had been struggling with looking natural, so it had been the photographer’s suggestion that they actually kiss. As she explained, her face got redder and redder, though, by the way she was avoiding my eyes, I doubted it was from the temperature outside. Had she liked the kiss? It had to have been awkward with her dad there, and she was saying it was, but...I knew my best friend and something was going on.

  Did she have a crush on Will that she wasn’t admitting to me? Maybe one that she wasn’t even admitting to herself?